


In For A Penny

by eyesofshinigami



Series: The Birthday Collective [11]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, It's All Lambert's Fault, M/M, Miscommunication, Pining, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game, Yennefer is done with their shit, but it all works out in the end, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:48:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28410408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyesofshinigami/pseuds/eyesofshinigami
Summary: Jaskier's been pining for Geralt for years, and he goes to a university party to get his mind off his crush. Which is, of course, when Geralt and his ex girlfriend show up.Cue Jaskier's friends deciding a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven is the perfect solution.Fucking hell.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: The Birthday Collective [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1910632
Comments: 11
Kudos: 168





	In For A Penny

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teamfreehoodies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teamfreehoodies/gifts).



> This is a birthday present for the amazing teamfreehoodies, who is a delight to know and this idea came about from a random conversation on the BoG server. I hope you enjoy, my friend!

It’s supposed to be a night where Jaskier doesn’t have to think about his ridiculous crush on his best friend. He’s supposed to get drunk, find someone to dance with and eventually fuck, and forget about how much he’d rather them be Geralt diRivia. But, like all things in his life, it doesn’t go according to plan. No, Geralt comes strolling into the party with Yennefer in tow, arms linked and looking unfairly gorgeous together.

Fuck. Jaskier needs another shot. 

He retreats to the kitchen and grabs the first bottle of vodka he can get his hands on from the line of them on the counter and slugs back a gulp that makes his throat burn. Geralt doesn’t do parties, always too busy studying and spending time with Yennefer, and he’s told Jaskier time and time again that he doesn’t like the noise. Which again, doesn’t explain what he’s doing at this particular frat party on this particular night, and with Yennefer no less. He could have sworn Geralt told him that they broke up, but even Jaskier’d had his doubts about how long that would stay true.

Not long enough, clearly.

Jaskier’s knocking back another shot when he hears, “Jaskier! What a pleasant surprise! I didn’t think we’d see you here.” He nearly sends alcohol shooting out of his nose in shock and he splutters around the taste of vodka in his mouth. He glances up to see Yennefer standing next to the island, arms crossed over her chest. She looks disgustingly pretty, like always, in a tight-fitting black dress that highlights every single ample curve she has. It looks a bit fancy for a frat party, but with his luck, they were probably out on a date or something.

“Well, it’s nice to see you too. What are _you_ doing here?” Jaskier asks, once he manages to get his voice back. As far as he knows, this really isn’t her sort of thing either, but wonders never cease. “I didn’t think you’d ever lower yourself enough to come to a meager frat party.” It isn’t his best, he’ll admit, but his head is spinning from the drink and he’s so overwhelmed by the two of them being here, he feels like he’s spiraling out of control. 

Her dark-red lips curve into a smirk, scenting weakness like blood in the water. Fuck. “What, I’m not allowed to slum it once in a while? Besides, one of Geralt’s friends invited us. Lambert, I think you know him?” 

Jaskier scowls. Of course he knows Lambert, he’s best friends with Lambert’s boyfriend Aiden. Everyone knows that. “Yeah, I know him,” he says instead. He grabs the bottle by the neck and starts out of the kitchen. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have drinking and dancing to do.” He doesn’t give her the chance to reply before he’s pushing past her and out of the kitchen. The bass thumps in his chest and his head, and he takes another swig before he does his best to blur into the makeshift dance floor. Maybe he’ll get lucky and he won’t have to see either of them, and he can disappear upstairs with a warm body that’ll get his mind off light hair and amber eyes. 

The music is pulsing and Jaskier’s blood is more alcohol than anything else at this point, and it's drowning out all the thoughts in his head. Bodies move and shift around him and he smirks when he feels someone warm and solid push up behind him. He turns around to see some grinning generic frat boy looking down at him, and he bats his eyelashes even as he sidles up close. Yes, this one will do nicely. Getting fucked stupid into a mattress somewhere sounds like just what the doctor ordered. 

Just as he’s about to ask dude of the day’s name, he gets yanked away and the word spins uncomfortably for a second. When it rights itself, Jaskier is looking into Aiden’s grinning face. Oh no. He knows that look, and it means nothing good for him. “Can’t you see I’m trying to get laid?” he growls out, motioning towards the frat boy who is quickly melting into the crowd again. “Fuck, now he’s gone. What did you want, anyway?” 

Aiden rolls his eyes, unperturbed by Jaskier’s fit of temper. “Please, guys like that are a dime a dozen. You know he’s going to fuck you for ten seconds and then come in your ass and say he forgot a condom and it’s his first time. Come on, I’ve got something better anyway.” He drags Jaskier back through the crowd and up the stairs, weaving through the sea of drunk and swaying bodies until they reach the landing. 

Immediately, Jaskier knows this is a terrible idea. Geralt and Yennefer are lounging together on one of the couches, with Eskel sprawled out on the floor and Lambert curled up in one of the big armchairs, along with Triss and Keira in the other. Suddenly, Jaskier is wishing for his vodka bottle. “Oh look, the gang’s all here,” he says shakily. Everything in him is itching to turn on his heel and run away, to disappear into the nameless crowd, but Aiden’s grip on his wrist is firm. 

“What took you? Was it that stupid frat bro you were dancing with? C’mon, Jask, you can do better than that,” Lambert says with a grin that has the hair on Jaskier’s arms standing up. He doesn’t like that look, knows how many shenanigans follow that wolfish grin. “We’re gonna play a game, you in?” 

_Absolutely fucking not_ , Jaskier thinks as he sinks to the floor next to Eskel, who smells vaguely of weed and looks like he’s on a different planet. What comes out of his mouth instead is, “What are we, fucking twelve?” It’s a bit more snappy than he’d like, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see where this is going. There’s an empty bottle of Takaa on the coffee table and the couches are close to the broom closet that stays empty for quickies between classes. Jaskier lets out a groan. “Please tell me we’re not actually going to play spin the bottle.” 

The wolf-grin gets wider. “Nope! Seven minutes in heaven. Gonna spin the bottle and see who goes first. Rule is some sort of hanky-panky has to happen, even if it’s just a kiss.” Lambert grabs the bottle and sets it on the floor. “Are you in, buttercup?”

Now he’s really wishing he’d held onto that vodka. Maybe he’ll get lucky, maybe the gods will smile down on him and he won’t get stuck in a closet with the guy he’s been best friends with forever and has loved almost as long. 

Lambert hands him the bottle and he gives it a spin, and of course, he could never be so lucky. The neck points towards the couch where Geralt is sitting, and there’s no mistaking that it’s directed right at him. “Motherfucker,” Jaskier grumbles under his breath, but no one calls him on it. 

Not when Geralt’s eyes go wide and he hops to his feet like his ass is on fire. He glances at Jaskier, then at Yennefer, and fucking hops the banister like some two-bit action hero. The _thump_ and subsequent roar of applause and shouts are deafening, and Yennefer rolls her eyes and yells loud enough to be heard over the din, “That fucking coward just jumped out of a window.” 

Jaskier licks his lips and can feel his stomach sinking into the floor. God, was the idea of being locked in a closet with him _that_ repulsive? Fuck, he needs to get out of here, away from all of their friends who just _watched_ Geralt run away from him. Heat floods his face and he can feel the tears starting to well up in his eyes, getting to his feet to go find some corner to hide in. 

Until Yennefer is yanking him by the front of his shirt towards the closet, that is. “Come on, I’ll take Geralt’s turn,” is all she says before she’s tugging him inside and slamming the door behind him. He can hear hushed voices outside the door, but right now he’s more worried about being pressed up against Yennefer Vengerberg of all people in a tiny closet that’s meant for making out. “Uh… Yen?” he asks, pulling out his phone and turning on the flashlight. “I don’t-”

She folds her arms across her chest and huffs, cutting him off. “Look, we have seven minutes and I have a few things to say before we have to stumble out of this closet. Lambert set this whole thing up to get you and Geralt alone for once.” 

It takes Jaskier far too long to wrap his brain about what she says. He wants to blame it on the alcohol, but frankly he has a hard time believing the words coming out of her mouth, not after that display of agility Geralt gave to get away from him. “But why?” 

Even in the low light of his phone, he can see the way she rolls her eyes and something in him squirms under the scrutiny. “Why? Are you kidding me? Surely you _both_ couldn’t be that fucking dense.” She searches his face with a frown, until her mouth drops and her hands fall to her side. “I guess you are. Jaskier, do you want to know _why_ I broke up with Geralt?”

“He told me he broke up with you, but wouldn’t say why. Just stormed into our room and sat on his bed and glowered at the wall until it was time for dinner,” Jaskier blurts out, shrugging when she looks offended by the idea. “I didn’t think it was any of my business.” _I didn’t want to know, because it didn’t change anything._

“I’m going to kick his ass,” Yennefer mutters under her breath, just barely loud enough for him to catch. To him, she says more loudly, “I broke up with him because I was tired of his ridiculous pining and simpering over you. All I heard was how amazing and lovely and beautiful you are. Did you know that he rolled off of me mid-fuck because you texted him and said you were sad and wanted to go get ice cream?” 

No, he didn’t know that. Jaskier feels his cheeks heat up all over again and he stares down at his shoes. “I don’t… Yennefer, I’ve been in love with Geralt since we were in middle school and nothing has ever come of it. I’m sorry if he did that to you, that’s not okay, but I just don’t think he feels that way about me. You saw him just jump a fucking banister a story up so he didn’t have to be in a closet alone with me… like that.” The words hurt as they leave his mouth, and he scratches at his chest like he can feel his heart breaking behind his ribs. He wants to believe her, but how can he, when Geralt showed up here with Yennefer on his arm and he literally _ran away_ from him? No, it’s best to just wait out this conversation and then go see if he can find Dudebro Number Five again for a drunken fuck he’ll likely forget in the morning.

“He ran away because Geralt’s emotional intelligence could fit into a goddamn teaspoon and you’re not the only one convinced that it’ll never happen.” Yennefer sighs again and moves in really close, backing Jaskier up against the wall. If he were with anybody else, he’d probably make a snappy comment about closeness and kissing, but this is Yennefer. She’s terrifying on a good day, and right now she’s got him crowded in a tiny space and she keeps saying things that Jaskier has only dreamed might be true. “I’m only going to say this once, and you’re going to listen. All right?” He nods, unable to do much else, and she continues. “Geralt is just as in love with you as you are with him, but he’s a giant meatball with insecurity issues who doesn’t think he’s good enough. We’ve got at least one more minute in here, but when one of those yahoos you call a friend lets us out, you better go find him and tell him how you feel. Otherwise, I will murder you both and make sure no one ever finds the bodies. Got it?” 

Jaskier nods quickly, so fast he bites his tongue but doesn’t speak. His heart kicks up in his chest, loud enough that even she can probably hear it in the small space. What if she’s right? “If I do, and he tells me no, you are going to owe me so much ice cream and alcohol.”

Yennefer smirks and licks her lips, and Jaskier follows the movement with wary eyes. On anyone else, it might have been sexy, but all it does is make him feel like a mouse caught under the gaze of a snake. “Tell you what, Jask. If I’m wrong, I will take you out to the best club in the city and let you drink and fuck to your heart’s content on my tab. No questions asked. Sound good?” she asks smugly, looking like a cat with cream. For a beat, he can almost see what Geralt saw in her, but he doesn’t comment on it.

He nods again and he lets out a shaky breath. Part of him wants to believe her, wants to think that maybe he does have a chance and this isn’t some far-fetched fantasy he’s built after too many shots. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, he supposes. “Why, though? Why tell me all of this? Shouldn’t you… I don’t know, be angry with me? Want to sabotage this since I essentially stole your boyfriend?” 

Yennefer picks at her nails and then looks at him like he’s an idiot. Which, considering what he just said, he might very well be one. “Please. Geralt was a good boyfriend and an excellent lay, but I’m never going to measure up to you. I don’t like playing second fiddle to anyone, and it’s not like you actively stole my boyfriend. He’s been yours a lot longer than he was mine, even if you’re both too fucking stupid to see it.” Her lips curve into a smile and she leans close again, like she’s trying to whisper a secret, just between the two of them. “Besides, maybe if I set you up, you’ll introduce me to that hot blonde friend of yours that you play music with sometimes.”

“Priscilla? Well, yeah, I guess I could do that,” Jaskier says, reeling a bit. How does she even _know_ Priscilla? He wants to ask, but he also doesn’t want anymore wild revelations that Yennefer seems so intent on giving him. When did his life become a teenage romcom from the nineties? 

“Good boy. Now, I guess we have to fulfill Lambert’s stupid requirment, so here.” Yennefer smacks him loudly on the cheek and looks rather satisfied with herself. “Don’t let me down, Jaskier. I will hunt you down if you don’t go find him.” 

Jaskier sighs and waves her off, even as he’s trying not to smile. “Fine, fine. But don’t be mad when I text you that you owe me a night out.” 

“Hmm,” is all she says, a perfect imitation of Geralt that has him throwing his head back and laughing. Laughing with Geralt’s ex that he's been jealous of for over a year isn’t what he expected to get out of tonight, but here they are. Maybe this fever dream will continue and he’ll actually get everything he wants, just to round off that teenage romcom idea off nicely. 

The door opens and Yennefer shoves him out, nearly dumping him onto the floor as she steps over him and says imperiously, “Don’t forget. Now, run along.” She motions that she’s watching him, even as she winks and walks over to the couch and hands the bottle to Keira. “Your turn.”

Jaskir scrambles to his feet and starts down the stairs, ignoring Aiden’s call and Lambert’s garbled words as he moves through the people that still seem to be everywhere. It feels like it takes him a hundred years to get through the crowd and out the back door, stopping to glance around. His heart is pounding in his ears and he feels a little dizzy, both from the drink and from the fact that he’s about to confront Geralt about whatever this is between them. He’s still having a hard time believing what Yennefer said, won’t believe it until he hears it through Geralt’s own mouth. Though, he knows his friend well. It might be easier to get blood from a stone. 

There aren’t that many people outside, thankfully, but he’s starting to lose hope until he sees a familiar shock of white hair across the yard, sitting on a rickety old bench swing that’s probably been here longer than Jaskier’s been alive. Geralt’s running his hands through his hair and rubbing his hands together, his face twisted into a scowl, the same one he wears when he’s got something heavy on his mind. _This is it,_ Jaskier thinks. _In for a penny, in for a pound._ It’s the same thing he thought trapped in the closet with Yennefer, but now it means more, weighs more heavily on his shoulders. Fuck, is he really going to do this?

Might as well.

He crosses the yard and stops in front of Geralt, who is too busy brooding to notice he’s standing there. Even washed out under the lights strewn around the yard, Geralt’s still the most beautiful thing Jaskier has ever seen. His chest clenches and he lets out a gasp, which is of course what draws Geralt’s attention to him finally. 

“Jaskier?”

“Geralt,” he replies, rubbing his palms on his jeans. Anyone else, Jaskier would be feeding one-liners and stupid, empty compliments about their eyes. Not Geralt, though. Geralt means too much to him for that. “I...uh… you ran out?” 

Geralt looks down at his feet. “Yeah, sorry. I… that was really shitty of me. How did the game go?” 

They both know he doesn’t care, but Jaskier plays along anyway. “Well, Yennefer took your turn. We ended up having a very enlightening conversation while we were trapped in the closet together. Do you want to know what she said?” His chest hurts from how hard his heart his pounding and he can feel the skin of his underarms start to prickle with sweat. _Why is this so hard?_

“Do I?” Geralt counters, shifting on the bench. 

Jaskier swallows around the lump in his throat and takes a deep, shaky breath. “She told me you love me. That she broke up with you because of me. Because you’re a ridiculous person who is apparently blind as a fucking bat because how can you not see?” 

“See what?” Geralt grits out, teeth clenched. His shoulders are hunched and he’s still not looking at Jaskier, like he’s expecting a physical blow. Maybe Yennefer was right, that Geralt was just as lost in the dark about this as he was. He swallows down a laugh and takes a seat next to Geralt on the bench. 

“Geralt, I’ve been in love with you since before I knew what that meant. I flirted and I thought… well, I thought I made it obvious. Clearly not obvious enough, but I do. I love you and have for a very long time. I just thought that I didn’t stand a chance, not when there was Shani, and then Triss, and then Yennefer…” Jaskier bites his lip and it’s his turn to stare down into his lap, where his hands are folded and clenched tight in together in an effort not to shake apart. “That’s why I was here tonight. Hopefully to get drunk enough to forget about you for a bit, but then you showed up with Yennefer and I thought you’d-”

Geralt snorts and cuts him off. “It was her idea. You know I hate these things, they’re too loud and it smells and I’m pretty sure I got my ass grabbed at least three times on the way out here. But she said you might be here and... “ He swallows, teeth bared in a snarl as he pauses for a moment. Words can be difficult for Geralt, Jaskier knows, so he waits as patiently as he can for his friend to find them before he speaks again. “She knew from the beginning, I think. You’re not the only one who didn’t think they had a chance. You’re this bright, burning person who lights up a room and makes everyone feel like they’re the most important person in the world, and I’m… not. Why would you be interested in me? It took me nearly five years to admit we were friends.” He looks away and Jaskier’s heart breaks a little in his chest. 

He unlaces his fingers and rests his hand atop Geralt’s clenched fist, squeezing gently. His skin is warm and Jaskier feels it in the tingle of his fingertips. It’s not the first time they’ve touched or even held hands, but this simple contact makes him feel like fireworks are going off in his belly. It’s heady and weightless all at once. “We’re quite the pair, aren’t we? But Geralt, there’s no one else I’d rather be a giant idiot with than you.” 

Their eyes meet and Jaskier doesn’t even care that this feels like the climax scene in a romantic comedy. Geralt’s honey-brown eyes are glittering, almost gold in the lamplight, and Jaskier can feel his own cheeks heating up under the scrutiny. Geralt doesn’t speak, instead lifting his hand to cup Jaskier’s jaw and pull him in for a kiss. 

People talk about kisses in movies like bells ringing, fireworks shooting off, or birds singing in the background. There’s some of that, sure, but more than that, Jaskier feels warm and safe and happy, like curling up on the couch with your favorite book, or sliding into a hot bath after a long day. It’s comfortable, and perfect. It feels _right_ , the way their mouths move together. It feels like coming home.

They pull apart and Jaskier feels like Geralt’s touch is the only thing keeping him from flying apart in different directions. The look on his friend’s face is soft and Jaskier knows he’ll never get tired of seeing it. “Everything you hoped it would be?” Geralt asks, voice just as soft as the smile on his kiss-wet lips. 

“Absolutely not. It was so awful, I think we need to try again. I might have to spend the rest of my life kissing you to make sure we get it right,” Jaskier teases even as he leans in again. That same warmth and sense of comfort washes over him as the kiss starts to stretch into making out territory. As much as he wants to climb Geralt like a tree after waiting for _so long_ , a bench outside a party at a frat house doesn’t seem like the best idea. “Shall we go back to our room? I feel like we’ve got years of making out to catch up on.” 

Geralt laughs, full-bodied in a way that doesn’t happen often, and Jaskier feels like he might sprout wings and fly, he’s so light. “Hmm, I can be convinced.” 

They get up and walk out, hand in hand, and Jaskier takes a moment to text Aiden that they’re leaving. He watches Geralt do the same, assuming he’s texting Yennefer, since they came together. He waits for the rush of jealousy to hit him, but it never comes. Instead, he’s grateful and makes a mental note to send Yennefer the best wine basket that his meager student income can buy. He can gladly say that he’s not going to be collecting on her offer, no wonder she was so smug when she made it. 

“Hey, Geralt… do you know of a good, cheap place to bring Yennefer as a thank you?” he asks as they walk towards Geralt’s car.

“Nope. Let me know if you find one. She’s got expensive tastes, and I think she’s picky on purpose.” 

Jaskier sighs, but it’s all right. He’ll make do. Right now, there are more important things to worry about, like getting horizontal with Geralt as soon as possible and covering him with as many kisses as he can manage. 

He does remember to send a certain text to Priscilla before they get too preoccupied. He does owe Yennefer, after all. 

In for a penny and all that.

-END-

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Loved it? Let me know here or over on Discord at #eyesofshinigami0707


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